


Swearing to Surrender

by romanticalgirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 2000</p>
    </blockquote>





	Swearing to Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 2000

Willow opened the door slowly, her eyes taking a moment to adjust from the bright daylight to the murky dark of Giles' apartment. Slipping inside, she carefully balanced the basket on her arm as she shut the door behind her.

"Giles?" 

A low moan came from the couch and she quickly locked the door behind her. Hurrying over to investigate the sound, she sank down to her knees beside his still form. 

"Giles?" 

"Shut off the light, would you?" 

"There aren't any lights on." She rested her hand on his forehead, her brow wrinkling in concern. "You're burning up." 

"Stupid, bloody sprinkler system," he muttered. "Who waters a graveyard in the dead of night, I ask you?" 

"As I recall," she noted with a soft giggle, "It wasn't a sprinkler system, so much as a fountain that you fell into because you had your nose in a book." 

"Bloody Slayer." He groaned as he shifted positions. "The least she could have done is not told anyone about it." 

Willow traced the worry lines on his forehead with a gentle finger, smoothing them down. "You saved the book. Just like a good librarian." Without thinking, she pressed a soft kiss where her finger had just traveled then got to her feet. "Can you sit up?" 

"Without falling over? I'm not quite sure." 

Nodding quickly, she lifted his hands to her shoulders. "Hang on then. And help, if you can." 

Struggling, they managed to sit him up. Willow started to pull away but found herself nestled quite securely in his lap. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, his head falling forward against her shoulder. "I forgot to let go." 

"It's all right. This will be easier from here." She grabbed the basket she'd brought with her and set it on her lap. Lifting the cover, she pulled out several thermoses. "I feel sort of like little red riding hood." 

"And I'm the grandmother? Thanks for that." 

She shook her head and took the top off one of the containers. She poured some of the foul smelling concoction into the cup-like lid and held it up to his lips. "Open wide." 

His eyes opened wide as he breathed the scent of it in. Shaking his head, he turned his lips away. "No." 

Using her other hand to move his chin back, she brushed her thumb across his lips. "You've probably not had anything to drink at all today. You need your liquids." Her resolve face firmly in place, she stared at him. "Don't argue." 

"What is it?" 

"Aspen, hornbeam, olive, sage, rosemary, and wood betony. Mixed with lemon balm and peppermint tea." She rubbed his lips again, smiling when they parted under her gentle touch. "I'm sorry it smells so distinct, but it will help." 

He took a sip, glad that it tasted far better than the odor would indicate. "You just mixed the herbs, didn't you?" His eyes narrowed, focusing on her face, so open to his. "No magicks involved?" 

"I don't do magic without your permission." 

"And you can't look at me when you say it," he noted. "Willow"

"Just a little spell to promote healing. Binding the herbs together to work to help speed your recovery. Nothing that someone with a herbal book couldn't do. I promise." She watched him as he drank, taking the cup when he finished. "When you're up to it, I also have the more traditional remedies. Chicken broth, toast and weak tea." 

"I'll let your magic do it's work first, I think." He lay his head back against the cushions of the couch. "You know," he said softly, refusing to let himself think, "I rather like you there." 

"On your lap?" She moved carefully, snuggling against his chest. His heartbeat was fast, but steady. His breathing was shallow and slightly erratic. She shifted again, noting that his breathing changed with each move she made. 

Smiling to herself, Willow placed her hand over his heart, feeling the rhythm beneath his heated skin. Giles raised one hand, stroking her hair as she lay against him. 

"Giles?" She whispered the word, waiting for his response. When he didn't, she raised her head. "Rupert?" 

His breath caught and he forced himself to keep his eyes closed. One look and he knew she'd be able to see everything in his eyes and he'd never be able to explain it away. 

"What would you have done if there were a spell on the drink?" 

"What sort of spell would we be talking about?" His voice was barely above a husky whisper and he realized that his eyes were not the only thing determined to give him away. 

"Well, aa love spell, for example." 

His hand stilled on her hair then entangled in the short, auburn locks. "I doubt it would make very much difference." He tilted her head back so that he could see her expression as clearly as she could see his. "As the effects would be completely wasted on me." 

Her lips parted and her breathing increased to match his. His green eyes were burning with passion and need. "Rupert?" She asked soundlessly as his head bent and his lips found hers. The fire that had been in his eyes seemed to move between them, singeing her mouth as his tongue slipped between her lips and tasted her. 

Pulling away after the all too brief moment, Giles met her eyes again. This time, his were questioning. "I haven't any right to do that, I realize"

She shook her head, pressing her hand to his lips. "I was listening to the radio today while I was running some errands. I heard this song" She cleared her throat and sang softly, her voice husky and deep with emotion. "What is this feeling/ I've never known before/ That I should touch you/ Swearing to surrender ever more/ That's what I came here for." 

His chest tightened as a tremor ran through him. "You can't be saying what I think you're saying. Perhaps I've succumbed to the fever and I'm having a dream." 

Taking his free hand and kissing it softly, she let her tongue whisper over his skin as she spoke. "Do I feel like a dream?" 

"In my world of demons, vampires, musty books and falls into fountains, beautiful young witches don't proposition me." 

"I haven't propositioned you yet," she stated. "I've simply told you that I love you." 

"So you have." Giles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "And have I returned the sentiment?" 

"Not in so many words." She stared at him, hope flaring in her chest. 

He nuzzled her neck gently; licking the smooth flesh and praying to whichever gods would listen that this might be real and not another fantasy. "There's no more waiting/ Holding out for love/ You are my Godsend/ That I have been forever dreaming of/ My angel from above. / Heaven knows/ I'm head over heels and it shows/ I've played every field I suppose/ But there's something about you/ When you're around/ Baby I have found/ I get lost in you." 

Willow sighed. "You heard it too?" 

He held her tightly. "It's the reason I'm down here, rather than in bed where I belong. I heard it start on the radio and came down to hear it." 

She sighed melodramatically. "You mean I could have found you all helpless in bed?" 

Placing his hands underneath her legs, Giles stood. "I'll have you know, I'm never helpless in bed." 

Giggling, Willow squirmed in his arms. "You're supposed to be sick." 

"I'm feeling quite revived." He glanced down at the empty thermos that had held his cure. "I'm thinking perhaps a certain witch had plans for me?" 

" Of course not," smiling, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly. "I don't do magic without your permission." 

"Well then," he headed toward the stairs, his eyes locked on hers. "By all means, permission granted." 

* * *


End file.
